Day 171: Escape To The Hills.

Posted on October 3, 2013 by Marcus

The alarm was set to sound at 9:00AM this morning, so it was with some surprise that my watch already read 9:10AM when I awoke from my slumber, no sign of the alarm that had been meant to awaken us. I jumped up, somewhat disorientated as to the failure of our claxon. I checked my phone, which is what we put to use as an alarm, only to find it powerless. This was strange as it had been on charge overnight, or so I had thought.

When I checked the power adaptor into which it was plugged, the adaptor was dead. Confirmation of this discovery came as I rushed about the van, plugging it into every power point I could get to.

Thankful that we had at least woken up at about the right time, we quickly gathered ourselves together, ready for a day out, in the hills of Adelaide. Figuring it was going to be a rather big day, we were taking the dogs along for the ride today, so we all bundled into ‘The Beast’ and by 9:45AM we were on the road, my phone sucking on power from the point in the dash.

As we motored along the traffic clogged feeder roads around the outskirts of Adelaide, I tried powering up my phone. Still nothing. Dead. No sounds. No lights. Absolutely nothing. I continued to drive, falling into a dismally sullen mood, trying to figure out how much information was saved on the phone, that I would now have to try and recover, not to mention how I would survive for the next couple of weeks until we return home, without any access to my phone.

By the time we reached our first stop in the Adelaide Hills at Hahndorf, I had worked myself up to a furious fervor about the phone. I was relieved to some extent that it ought still be covered by warranty and if not by insurance, so I buried the useless piece of rubbish in the depths of the centre console in ‘The Beast’, relegated it to a bad memory as I strove to have a fun day out.

Hahndorf is a quaint village in the midst of the Adelaide Hills, which is much adored by visitors and locals alike for its German heritage. The town plays on this fact openly, with many German influenced bakeries, pubs, small goods stores and gift shops including a couple that specialise in very continental cuckoo clocks. Not just a window into German culture, various artisan shops abound along the main street as well, many housed in original cottages dating back to the 1840s.

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Some of the…

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…views in the…

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…main street…

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…of Hahndorf.

 

We left the dogs to guard ‘The Beast’ while we walked from one end of the lengthy main street to the other and back. Lunch was to consist of genuine giant German bratwurst sausages, but we came to a bakery selling a delectable choice of sweet treats. It was still too early for lunch, so instead we decided to stop for a little morning tea. Before we knew it, we were struggling our way through slabs of vanilla slice and cream and jam filled doughnuts, while sipping on thick, sickly sweet hot chocolates, made from rich lashings of melted chocolate. Lunch plans I think pretty much went out the window as our stomachs struggled to contain our morning tea.

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That’s not all mine.

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But this is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thankfully, by the time we were done at Hahndorf, I think we would have well and truly walked off any excess calories though as we continued to stride slowly along the main street, taking in all that there was to see. From the quaint to the quirky, there really was something for everyone. I most enjoyed the very Australian leather smiths shop, walls and racks overflowing with handcrafted leather belts and accouterments. An open fire was crackling away in the hearth, smoke filling the shop with a delicious, if choking, scent of burnt timber while between the goods on display, funny handwritten quotes adorned the walls. An age was also spent in the opal shop, where Bec agonised over whether or not to buy a pair of opal earrings. As at Coober Pedy, she decided that she didn’t need them after all.  I have no doubt that she will now wait until we get home before she changes her mind and then ruminates about her decision not to purchase anything. I can see another trip to Coober Pedy in our future!

By the time we finally strolled back to ‘The Beast’, we’d been 3 ½ hours walking about, which didn’t leave us a whole lot of time to take in the other attractions of the Adelaide Hills we’d been planning to see. Not to mention, by this time we were already feeling rather worn out. Continue we must though, so after taking the dogs, who had been very well behaved, cooped up beneath the canopy in the tub of ‘The Beast’ all day, for a bit of a walk, we mounted up and headed out again.

Our next couple of stops were just quick ones at a nearby jam factory, then a bespoke cordial manufacturer before we found ourselves driving through the little town of Woodside, where we happened across a couple of endearing antiquities dealers. Like all good antique stores, they were crammed to overflowing full of old wares, vintage clothing, fragile books and rusty tools.

By the time we had finished trawling through the antiques, it was a rush to make it to our final two attractions. We ended up missing out on the cheese factory by only a few minutes, although we did make it to the Melba Chocolate Factory, where a central hall was filled with deliciously sweet treats, while little rooms around the side held the actual chocolate making rooms, where like a scene from Willy Wonka, workers in traditional factory uniform were busy creating all manner of chocolaty delicacies.

Despite our weariness by this stage of the day, I had come across a phone shop that was only a short detour from our intended route along the scenic drive home from the hills. This, we possibly should have put off until tomorrow, as Bec was already feeling sore and tired from having been on her feet all day, but I was determined to give someone some feedback about exactly what I thought about my phone.

The closer we got to the shopping centre, the more irate I became again at what I had decided was the culpability of the phone provider. I had visions of arguing the point and demanding a new phone and berating loudly whoever it was that had the pleasure of dealing with me.

Storming into the store, I thrust the lifeless phone at the guy behind the counter and explained my predicament. He kindly took it from me, fiddled with a couple of buttons, at which time the penny dropped. So immersed in the thought that the phone was beyond repair had I been, I hadn’t even considered trying to reboot it. Mentally slapping myself across the back of the head, I embarrassingly retrieved my resurrected phone, amongst a profusion of thanks as I left the store, glad I hadn’t launched into the tirade I had been practicing in my head all afternoon.

Since we were now at the shopping centre, we couldn’t help ourselves and had to have a quick look around. By the time we eventually got underway again, it was getting late and any thought of cooking for ourselves was quickly abandoned. Instead, we hunted around almost fruitlessly for somewhere to get a feed of fish and chips. Not only did we have trouble finding the flashing glow of a fish and chippery, when we did finally stumble across one, the meal we got was well below average. In Becs Words, she’d had enough and just wanted to go home. It was at this same moment in time that it was remembered that we needed a few supplies for the pantry and yet another stop would have to be made before we could finally call an end to the day. A realisation that saw Bec finishing the day in a mood not too dissimilar to the one in which I started the day with. At least we agree that the middle part of the day was fantastic.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

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Day 170: Mayhem At The Museum.

Posted on October 2, 2013 by Marcus

It was to be a relatively quiet day today. Nothing more than a quick trip into the centre of Adelaide was planned where we hoped to take in the displays of a couple of museums and relish in the shopping on offer in the big smoke. As a bonus, we had been talking to another couple yesterday who had mentioned that they left their dog in their van while out, even though the park rules clearly state otherwise.

Not wanting to cause any trouble, nor feeling energetic enough to walk all of the way down to the front office, Bec instead rang the office to seek clarification. It did indeed turn out to be factual that we can leave the dogs here in the comfort of the van, so leave them we shall.

Considering the weather this morning, I have no doubt that they will be much more comfortable here in their own environment, with the heater roaring all day long for their enjoyment. It is again forecast to be a miserable day of the grandest order, with strong squally winds, bucket loads of rain all the while not expected to raise the mercury to much above the 18oC mark.

On the way into town, we thought it a good idea to figure out where we might park. As it turns out, this was easier said than done, as all of the commercial car parks are constructed with a much smaller vehicle than ‘The Beast’ in mind. Even letting all of the air out of the tyres wasn’t going to lower our overall height by enough to comfortable navigate through the parking tombs. We were therefore at the mercy of the parking Gods and headed into the centre of town with only a vague hope that we might be able to find some on street parking.

As it turned out, we were fortunate enough to trip across some metered parking only a block or so away from the museum. It was pricey, but was also our only option. At least we didn’t have too far to walk in the cold and rain to get to the museum. Bec less so than I, considering I dropped her off at the front door of the museum, before parking ‘The Beast’.

By the time I had raced back to the museum on foot, Bec was about set to leave already. There was a procession of running, yelling and screaming school aged kids scooting around the entire place, making such a racket that even holding a conversation was difficult. They have no manners and think it quite appropriate to push past you on stairs, then leave grotty handprints on all of the display cases.

We had only come to see one particular exhibit though, so figured we may as well grin and bear the unkemptness of the crowd, push our way to the very top floor to see what we’d come to see, then get out of there quick smart. We had been told while in Coober Pedy about an opalised dinosaur skeleton fossil and it was this amazingly unique piece we had come all this way for.

According to the blurb in the display case, it is a skeleton of an Addyman Plesiosaur, “a marine reptile that swam and hunted in the icy seas of inland Australia, 110 million years ago”. It is now a series of bones, all displaying the telltale colour of opal. It was quite amazing.

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The Addyman Plesiosaur.

Having reached the uppermost floor of the museum relatively unscathed, we decided to peer into a few of the other galleries as we returned to the ground floor. The museum holds some very interesting relics, evidenced as we wandered through the ancient Egyptian displays, the Robert Mawson gallery, two floors full of Aboriginal artifacts and many display cases of stuffed animals. Had it not been for having to fight with the little people to poke our noses against the glass cases, we may have spent the entire day wandering quietly about the museum.

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While the Egyptians were creating elaborate mummies…

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…Australian Aboriginals were crafting seats for bikes that were yet to be invented.

Instead, we walked a further block into town to the Rundle Mall. This is the premier shopping mall in Adelaide and features a generous mix of shops fronting the mall, as well as many others in the numerous arcades and shopping galleries off of the main strip.

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Shopping in Rundle Mall.

We spent as long as we could, but not as long as we would have liked browsing through the many stores that took our fancy. We were asked to complete a survey in one place in preparation for their upcoming foray into online sales. At the end, we were asked which age group we were in, at which the saleswoman guessed us to be in the 36-55 range. “No, 25 to 35.” Snapped Bec as she strode away, leaving the poor woman very red faced and apologetic. At another boutique, Bec bought some special nightwear, which she said I would just have to wait to see.

Having only paid for three hours of parking, it was soon time to weave our way back towards ‘The Beast’. We had just enough time on the way back to have a quick browse through the Immigration Museum, where $2.00 per person was the suggested donation required to gain us entry. I’m not a fan of this idea of enforced donations. Either you have an entry fee or you don’t have an entry fee, but just don’t expect me to pay heed to the recommended amount. Therefore, I split the difference and slipped $1.00 each into the box. I figured that was fair since we most likely would have spent twice as long looking through the exhibits had we not been in such a rush to return to ‘The Beast’.

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The Immigration Museum.

Before leaving the city, we drove to the opposite side, where we thankfully located a car parking space right around the corner from an antiques market we had read about. We have been here before, and are always amazed at the hotch potch of goodies that are amassed in the groaning display cases crammed into the burgeoning building.

It was then finally time to return to the van and the dogs, where we would have a couple of hours to relax before heading out again for dinner. Bec is taking me out for a special, romantic dinner tonight. I was trying to keep it low key, but yes, today is my birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!

I had chosen the restaurant, preferring the casualness of the Fasta Pasta place we dined at the other night. So, it probably wasn’t too romantic as the noise level was akin to that at the museum this morning. We did though both walk out feeling rather more ill than we cared to admit, having eaten well more than we might have should have.

Back at the van, Bec promised to unveil todays purchases for me!!!

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Bec models her sexy new lingerie.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

Posted in Everything, The Epic Journey | Tagged | 4 Comments

Day 169: Having A Wine Or Two.

Posted on October 1, 2013 by Marcus

The wind positively howled through the awning stays last night, creating an eerie high pitched whine, while at the same time our TV antenna, which we had decided to elevate, sounded like it was to be torn unceremoniously from the roof with each and every gust. And cold, gee it was cold, although that had a lot to do with Bec obviously requiring the doona much more than I. I nocturnal game of tug of war ensued, a game of which I came out as the underdog.

With all this nighttime activity, sleep was hard to come by, so it was a rude awakening this morning when the warbling of the alarm sounded, sending the dogs bouncing across the bed and in turn us. There was to be no extra rest though, as a big day was in store for us, rain, hail or shine.

Not that the weather turned out to be of any concern, much of the worst of it having blown out overnight. It was still bitterly cold when the wind blew, but otherwise a rather nice day and certainly workable for a day touring around the culinary sights of the much lauded Barossa Valley wine region.

Rugged up against the chill, we piled into ‘The Beast’ for the short drive north towards the promise of gourmet delights, family run cellar doors and hand crafted goodies.

Before reaching the inner sanctum of the valley we stopped at the SA Water managed dam wall of the Barossa Reservoir. An engineering feat when it was constructed between 1899 and 1903 it now draws visitors from far and wide, who test the walls unique parabola acoustic effects. At almost 150 metres across you can stand at one end, talking in a normal voice, only to be heard clearly by listeners at the opposite side. I drew the short straw, being elected in a vote of one to one, to parade across the top of the dam wall so as to put the acoustics to the test. Sure enough I could hold a completely normal conversation with Bec across the span. Care had to be taken with topics of conversation though, as it really was a case of the wall having ears, as anyone standing on the path across the top of the dam could also listen in to whatever was being said.

Still intrigued as to the science behind the wonders of the whispering wall, we next came to a lavender farm. While we didn’t take a tour of the farm, the front garden was filled with the gloriously fragrant, deep purple flowered bushes of lavender that were the ingredient of almost everything for sale in the little gift shop and café. From the usual lavender scented soaps and creams to the more unusual lavender flavoured scones, jams and liqueurs, nothing missed out on the lavender treatment. Even dog shampoo came aromatically scented with the sweet smelling blossoms.

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Smell the Lavender.

By the time we got to Lyndoch, essentially the southern gateway to the Barossa wine region, lunchtime was nearly upon us. A fortunate turn of events as it should transpire, because a well regarded bakery had pride of place in the Lyndoch main street. Before checking out the delights on offer, we gave the dogs a bit of an exhausting run in the parklands, before taking a wander down the quaint village like main street. A craft co-operative operated from a small store near the bakery. It was full of locally produced hand crafted goods, from turned wooden bowls to cuddly looking teddy bears.

At the bakery, we feasted on flavoursome, homemade meat pies, the pastry of which was a perfect combination of crispy and flakey. They were delicious, but were nothing compared to the huge slab of cheesecake we enjoyed for dessert. We had initially planned on buying two pieces, but when the first piece was presented to us, hastily changed our minds. The creamy filling was of such denseness, the slice had a decent heft to it, but retained a lightness on the palate. Topped with a layer of caramelised apple over which an even thicker layer of freshly whipped cream, dusted with chunks of walnuts, it all combined to make a sickly sweet treat. It was only with the utmost of effort that I managed to finish off the piece of cake, after Bec gave up the ghost hardly a third of the way through.

Moving off at a waddle, we pulled into a winery next. Loudly proclaiming its status as a James Haliday 5 star winery, we figured it would be a safe bet for procuring a decent drop. We weren’t to be disappointed either, as we got talking to the chatty young girl behind the counter about our travels, we managed to walk out with an entirely quaffable bottle of Shiraz and a massive flagon of Port.

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That’s going to be one hell of a big night!

An antiques shop featuring a couple of sheds of grimy old furniture and messy shelves of various knick-knacks was our next quick stop on our way to a small delicatessen guilty of creating a delicious range of cured meats and sausages. From brandy infused mettwurst to smoked bacon it was all delicious. There may have been a few packs of delicacies from here that made it back to ‘The Beast’ for further tasting at a later stage.

Just up the road was the town of Tanundra. Another picture perfect village, full of dainty stone walled, tin roofed buildings that lend an old world air of antiquity to the entire area. The only thing missing was the cobblestone flagged streets. We parked ‘The Beast’ in Tanundra, secured the dogs in the back, then took off on foot to explore the main street. Among other things, we came across a tiny little hole in the wall shop, every available space within crammed with cushiony teddy bears, another small craft shop, this one selling delicious smelling sweet treats alongside the more usual selection of knitted, crocheted, quilted and embroidered goodies and a well stocked antique store, cabinets, shelves and tables all lined with dusty items from yesteryear.

Despite touring the wine region, we were to visit only 2 wineries for the day. The second one caught our attention, due to its name, Bethany Wines, not named after our gorgeous little girl I am sure, but we could encourage that notion. As it turns out, while I didn’t care for their Shiraz, Bec found the extremely sweet late harvest Riesling quite pleasing to her taste buds. Our cellar is now officially completely full I think.

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We told Bethany that winery was named after her.

On the way to the township of Angaston, we made time to stop at a lookout, from which the neatly tiered vineyards spread out beneath us, reaching for as far as the eye could see. We stopped only long enough to take a couple of pictures, as time was running out and there were a few more stops we wanted to make on our return trip to the van.

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The outlook from the lookout.

Firstly there was a craft and quilting store, which I let Bec enjoy on her own. Not to my taste, it meant I didn’t have to stand forlornly in the corner waiting on Bec, so she could take her time to inspect the goods at her own pace. Secondly, in Angaston was the Barossa Cheese Factory, at which Bec was again in her element. They specialise in soft, gloopy cheeses that don’t agree so much with me. I did taste one, but was left wishing I hadn’t as I struggled to get it down. Maybe they should take a leaf out of the wineries book and provide a spittoon. Not to worry, Bec found a couple of little rounds to add to our burgeoning little fridge.

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Lucky the sign was out.

Our final stop for the day was at a little cottage, from within comes a range of handcrafted leather goods. We almost didn’t stop here after a quick look on the Internet suggested that the objects of our desire might be somewhat out of our price range. Seeing the sign out as we drove by, we decided to take a look anyway. What an absolutely gorgeous range of products. Boots, bags, belts and purses, all lovingly created on-site and considering the work that goes into the items, quite reasonably priced. Bec ended up buying a neat little coin purse, while I saw a folio that I liked the look of, just not the colour of. Not to worry, items can be made to order, so after selecting the leather I liked, it will be ready and posted out in a week or so. That, Bec said, can be a special surprise for my upcoming birthday. Happy Birthday to me!

Our day finally done, and still facing a lengthy drive back to the caravan park, we stopped to pick up a feast of greasy, fried chicken for dinner. Not great, but infinitely better than arriving home and having to cook and clean, especially after last nights dismal efforts in the kitchen.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

Posted in Everything, The Epic Journey | Tagged | 2 Comments

Day 168: Food For Thought.

Posted on September 30, 2013 by Marcus

Brooding would be the about the best word with which to describe the weather this morning. A definite warmth still prevailed, but ominous dark clouds were hanging in the sky, threatening to unleash a torrid downpour. It was very much calm before the storm like in appearance and ambiance. This was not something that we could allow to cause us any delay in our exploration of Adelaide however, so rather than bunkering down in the van, we buckled up in ‘The Beast’ and headed off.

It was only minutes later that we were pulling over to examine a promising looking caravan yard that boasted an expansive range of the massive fifth wheelers that we like. We truly shouldn’t even look, or else before we know it we’ll be tearing the canopy off of ‘The Beast’ and getting a turntable fitted to the back. Now there’s food for thought, although to be brutally honest, we found it difficult to like them. The ones on display have all been imported from the America and the interior décor is rather stagnant. It felt like stepping into a wood paneled hunting lodge sitting high up on the side of a mountain. A picture of golden leafed elm trees entered my mind, a clear stream meandering by with rubber booted fishermen standing in the shallows, throwing out flies for trout. Décor aside, I could see us moving into one of these, although at the price that is asked of them, it would have to be a permanent move. I’m not too sure that we’re ready for that, but it still is food for thought!

Today wasn’t the day though, so we left the giant trailers where they sat before heading down to the historic Port Adelaide quarter. A quick stop in at the local tourist information centre failed to yield any exciting information, apart from pointing out a few museums that we were already aware of, but not planning on visiting this trip anyway. So, no more enlightened than when we entered, we headed back out, planning to take a walk amongst the delightful old buildings.

The sudden onset of the previously only threatened rain put paid to the walk idea. Rather, we drove aimlessly about, getting terribly lost, but enjoying the views regardless.

Whilst we hadn’t formulated a precise plan for the days activities, we did have a list of possible sights we wished to take in. Therefore, after our visually stunning tour of Port Adelaide, we headed in the direction of the old Adelaide gaol. This we figured would make an ideal wet weather attraction. Little did we know at this point in time that the majority of the complex is outdoors.

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On the outside, but for how long?

Unfortunately, guided tours are no longer available at the gaol, the only option now on offer to tourists being the self guided version. As we were to find out, armed with an informative map, it would still turn out to be an exciting and educational experience. A massive complex, built in the mid 1800s, it practically bankrupted the early colony as its construction costs soared. As it stands, it was never fully completed to its originally planned grandeur. It nonetheless served its purpose and served it well, functioning as a gaol right up until it was decommissioned in 1988.

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Visitor time. Just like the movies.

Sorrow must almost be felt for the inmates in the later stages of the gaols life, as it barely changed from the time it was first opened. Two of the biggest inroads to inmate comfort came when first, piped radio was made available to every cell and later, porta-potti toilets were introduced to a select number of cells to take place of the otherwise unhygienic ‘night buckets’.

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One of the more amenable cells.

The gaol was also the site of the only approved gallows in South Australia, where 45 prisoners faced the ultimate penalty for their crimes, death by hanging. Of these, only one was a female, who legend now has it was wrongfully convicted.

My Mug Shots.

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Left side.

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Front Side.

 

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Backside!

After 2 tiring hours of ambulating about the prison yards, for the most part avoiding any of the heavier spurts of precipitation, it was time to move on. On the way to our next attraction, we espied an antique shop that held a window full of promising looking antiquities to browse through. In a case of making a spontaneous stop, we pulled in for what turned out to be an expensive look around as Bec left loaded to the gunwales with gifts to take home with her.

Our next stop was all about me, as I got to pay homage to a great outback pioneer, Reginald Murray Williams who is better known for the boots and leather goods he made that lead to the formation of the now world famous Australian brand, R.M. Williams. It was in the back shed of his fathers property at 5 Percy Street, Prospect where it all began. There is now a heritage museum at the location, where the life and times of the iconic R.M. Williams is brought to life through a series of informative displays and examples of the company’s products from years past. The product examples are generally pieces that happy customers have donated to the museum over the years. Old, worn out boots featured prominently, soles flapping about loosely, leather scored and torn, the hard life that these boots had been subjected to was evident.

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Time to pay homage.

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Me and the big man.

 

The museum also boasts a store chockablock full of the clothing and boots R.M. Williams is renown for, although I restrained myself successfully, managing to make a tactical withdrawal without need for dipping into my wallet. This was mostly due to the next stop of the day being at the little known about outlet store at the R.M. Williams factory.

As a quick aside, and another case of food for thought for the day, the house right next door to the museum is up for sale. For the tidy sum of $404,000 I could actually live right next door to the R.M. Williams museum! Hmm, food for thought!

While the factory store held great promise of bargains, it failed to live up to the hype. Sure, there were plenty of great products on the shelves, all at mostly reasonable prices, but there was nothing that particularly caught my attention. My only other wish was that the factory be open for tours, but this too was a hope that went unheeded.  

Utterly exhausted by this stage, we finally decided to call it a day and make tracks for the van. Only a quick stop at the supermarket delayed us, at which time the heavens again opened, dumping a short, but torrential load of rain down upon us. With this sudden torrent, the temperature also dipped, seeing us scurrying about shivering in our summer weight clothes as the wind fluttered coldly through the thin fabric. Yep, it was definitely time to get back to the comfort of the van.

Safely back, we found that the wind had also played havoc with our awning during the day, thankfully causing no sustained damage, but seeing me having to wrestle with it against the wind to get it reset and now hopefully anchored more securely. The weather you see is not forecast to become any better during our remaining time here.

Now, for my final case of food for thought for the day, our dinner. I say food for thought, because that was about all that it was worth, as I turned a tray full of delightfully tender beef into a near inedible mess of a tasteless stir fry. Food for thought.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

Posted in Everything, The Epic Journey | 2 Comments

Day 167: Time For A Spring Clean.

Posted on September 29, 2013 by Marcus

We were thankful this morning that we had made such inroads on our trek into Adelaide yesterday, staying where we did only 60 kilometres short of todays target. All in all, we had found the camping area to be perfectly suitable to our needs, with the free barbeques, bathrooms and even access to running water had we required it. While the unexpectedly extended drive might have made for a long day yesterday, sitting on our numb behinds, watching the scenery fly past at a great rate of knots from the lofty pews of ‘The Beast’, it also meant that there was no need to be governed by the clock today.

Therefore, we were able to sleep in until such time as our bodies rather than our need to hustle decided otherwise. This turned out to be sometime just after 10:00AM, not that we were looking of course since time was of no concern. Even awakening at that late hour, there was still no need to rush to get out of the campground, so we settled in for a leisurely breakfast.

It was almost 11:00AM by the time we finally made tracks, finding today the sealed, but still bumpy access road that would lead us back to the highway without requiring us to negotiate the loose gravel dirt road we came in on yesterday. In rally parlance today could be described as a ‘transport stage’. Our only aim was to make the 60 odd kilometre drive to the caravan park. Anything past that point had yet to be decided, although we had mooted a much loved idea of doing very little. Nothing even, if it came to it.

As we began our final slog toward the big smoke, we commented that you could tell that we were nearing the city, as the wide open spaces gave way to built up communities and the occasional passing car morphed into a continuous stream of speeding, hurrying traffic. With our caravan park located about 20 kilometres to the north of the Adelaide city centre, we didn’t even have to pass all the way into town. ‘Shazza’ still managed to give us a final bum steer for the day though, as we approached our parking spot, she sent us down a maze of suburban streets and cul-de-sacs before bringing us back out to the intersection at which we could have simply made a quick right hand turn to enter the park. Sure, I would have had to have crossed three or four lanes of traffic, but it would have been easier than doing it ‘Shazzas’ way.

Checking in at the park, the lady behind the desk gave an audible gasp when she saw the van plonked on the driveway just outside of the office. Bec had mentioned the length when we booked, but there was still a flurry of activity as bookings were rearranged to put us on a different site than what had already been allocated. Apparently those sites are for somewhat smaller rigs than our colossal circus wagon. As a result, we got a choice of a couple of sites, taking up the offer of a plot that was towards the rear of the park and as far away as possible from the rumbling road noise of the main highway directly out the front.

This was both a blessing and a curse as we were soon to find out. A blessing in that it was much quieter, only a pebbles throw from the bathrooms and a drive through site to boot. A curse it was on the other hand, as it had only been vacated yesterday by an undesirable long term tenant, who had left it a mess. You might ask how a plain sod of earth can be left a mess, but when picking up after pets is not a part of your daily routine, you can only imagine what we faced. Add that to the scattered, tyre punching screws and rivets, and we had a bit of a chore on our hands to get the site up to our demanding standards.

We did make the staff aware of our predicament, who then wanted to see us move to another site. Having already set up and decided that this site would be perfect for our weeks stay here, we declined. Instead, one of the grounds keepers came over to give it a bit of a spruce up. It’s now better than it was, but still not perfect.

As for our planned afternoon of doing zilch, we soon found ourselves busy setting up, tidying up and cleaning. Well, to be honest, Bec found herself doing the cleaning. I just felt bad for looking on idly, so thought I’d better join in the fun and games. Floors were vacuumed, benches were scrubbed, beds were changed and windows were wiped. We even commandeered two of the enormous caravan park washing machines to supplement our little clothes shaker. At $3.00 a pop, we thought it was good value to get everything done in one fell swoop rather than numerous miniature loads in the van. Although we did get ripped off for $3.00 when one of the machines happily took our money, but failed to do anything in the way of washing our bedding. Shaking, hitting and kicking the machine might have released some pent up anger, but did nothing in the way of getting the instrument functioning. Taking potluck, we manhandled the load of laundry across to the next machine, fed it a further $3.00, twiddled the dial and hey presto, we had flashing lights and rocking action.

Coming back from the laundry, we noticed that the cute little dog that has been chained to the jockey wheel of the camper on the site next to ours has been all day without water. There has been no sign of the owner, so we took a platter of water over for it. No sooner had Bec placed the water down, we were berated from within the camper by a woman who had obviously been sleeping off a big night all afternoon. We managed to placate her quickly enough thankfully, and she later moved the poor little puppy to an area that at least provided some shade from the hot sun.

The much needed spring clean then continued, taking us clean through the afternoon, until a bit after 4:00PM when we decided enough was enough. Since we had also decided that we couldn’t be bothered fending for ourselves on the dinner front tonight, we chose instead to dine out. On the way to the ‘Fasta Pasta’ restaurant, which we always find provides a decent feed for a decent price, we popped into a shop we know, love and always find time to visit when in Adelaide. A veritable barn of country and western accoutrements, it stocks all things country. And western. From big hats and checked shirts to tall boots and plate sized buckles, I was in my element. So much so, I might yet go back again tomorrow, and the day after that. And the few days after that too, just for good measure!

Dinner was exactly what we have come to expect of the ‘Fasta Pasta’ franchise. A decent serving of pasta, covered with a tender flavoured creamy white sauce, speckled with pine nuts, baby spinach leaves and chunks of pumpkin for me, while Bec took in the savory delights of a grilled chicken breast accompanied by a sauce similarly tasty to mine.

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Ready to tuck in, almost. Oh, fork in hell!

Back at the van, with no need to think about cooking or cleaning, we were finally able to sit back and relax, as we poured over a ream of brochures, searching for things to fill in our next few days with.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.

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